


Soft and Sweet

by FadedSepia



Series: Fluffy Fibre Fics [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton is the Best Hooker, Fibre fic, Fluff, Fluff and Mush, I made everyone starkchat handles because of course I did, Lacey Buckey, Let the stupid children help!, M/M, fluff and comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18592174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadedSepia/pseuds/FadedSepia
Summary: Bucky finds Clint up, trying to save the world from their living room, and does something about it. Another ridiculous fibre-fluff-fic.





	Soft and Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elenorasweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenorasweet/gifts).



> For Nora: Thanks for always supporting these weird drabbles, and being a bomb-ass hooker! (Fibre-Friends Forever).
> 
> Additional thanks to ellopoppet for regularly giving me good line ideas when we're screaming about fic.
> 
> Although this is the second work in the series, chronologically this story comes before _Comfy Cozy_.

Bucky stirred, certain he’d heard something in their small apartment. He reached across to the spot on the bed that should have been occupied, meeting only empty sheets. “Clint?” He blinked, realizing that both the bed and bedroom were empty. Clint had better not be bleeding on the couch, again.

Still sleepy as he padded into the main living room, Bucky was startled to find the light on and his boyfriend, awake, hunched in their overstuffed recliner, surrounded by skeins of yarn. Noting the line of purple visible behind Clint’s ears – he usually switched to the others once he got home, which was concerning – he asked. “Hey, doll? Are you coming to bed?”

“Y-yeah, sure. Just… just lemme finish this, okay?” Clint sniffled, loudly, pausing whatever he was working on to scrub at his face before he picked back up. “Sorry I woke you, babe. You can go back to bed.”

“Finish whatever you need to, but I’m not leavin.’” Already closing the distance between them, Bucky leaned over the back of the lounger, arms wrapping around the front of Clint’s chest, head settling on his shoulder. Clint’s cheek was damp against his own. He stayed there, as his boyfriend’s hands slowed, then stilled, then dropped hook and yarn into his lap. “Clint?”

Clint sucked in a wet breath, squeaking. “They’re so tiny... and it’s gonna be so hard for them.” He turned his face in to the side, tears leaving a wet trail across Bucky’s jaw and neck.

Still keeping his prosthetic hand on the blond’s shoulder, Bucky stepped to the side, sitting half on the arm of the chair, half on Clint’s lap. He pulled the mess of bond hair and sniffles that was his boyfriend in against his chest, chin settling atop his head even as Clint’s arms wrapped around his waist. “Tell me? I thought you were doing a hospital visit today?”

Bucky could feel the nod against his chest. “I did. It was great... the kids were all excited, and they liked the shirts...” Clint’s voice petered out as he shuddered, again. He was still for a long moment, breath evening out before he sucked in hard through his nose. Clint pulled one hand away, leaning back to wipe his face on his sleeve. His eyes were still wet as he looked up. “I’m okay.”

Taking hold of the hem of his own shirt, Bucky gently wiped at his boyfriend’s face, letting the fingers of his flesh hand cup against Clint’s jaw. “You don’t have to be.” He leaned in, until their foreheads were just touching, fingers still rubbing along Clint’s cheek. “Tell me?”

With a sigh, Barton nodded. He leaned in closer, pulling Bucky into his lap completely, cheek resting on Barnes’ chest as Bucky held him. “There’s this whole specialty area for babies – little babies, J.B., like barely walking little – and they don’t know how to keep their aids in, and they throw them, or chew and just... I get how expensive they are, ya know? And the doctors said some of the kids wear hats to keep ‘em in, but they gotta be specially made, and keep running out, so I thought...”

Clint’s words trailed off as he shrugged, nuzzling in close with a strong squeeze.

“You could make it better if you made enough hats?” Bucky placed a gentle kiss in the middle of the mess of blond hair pressing into his chest. He felt as much as heard Clint’s answering mumble.

“I know…  it’s stupid.”

“It’s sweet.” Bucky pressed another kiss to Clint’s hair, then let his chin rest atop the other man’s head “‘s part of what I love about you.”

With another deep, steadying breath, Clint leaned back enough to look up at him. His face was blotchy, eyes still wet, though Bucky could see the first spark of what might be a smile in those grey-blue eyes; the soft quite kind that his boyfriend only shared when they were alone. “Not just my arms?”

“My one weakness, but not what made me fall for you.” Bucky could have lost himself in those eyes, but that wasn’t what Clint needed right now. Answering with his own lopsided grin, he kissed his boyfriend a final time where the bridge of his nose met his forehead. Easing out of Clint’s arms, Bucky stood, offering his hand. “C’mon, doll. Let’s get you to bed.”

☆•°•☆

**[ _OneHandClapping has created chat group_ : Operation Give a (Hawk)Guy a Hand]**

**_[OneHandClapping has joined the chat]_ **

**_[SpiritFingers has joined the chat]_ **

**[SpiritFingers]**  
James, what is wrong with Clint?  
I am up state, but I can be down in a day or so. Does someone need to stay with him? Is Natasha also hurt?

**_[NerdBird has joined the chat]_ **

**[OneHandClapping]**  
It’s okay, Wanda. He’s not hurt, but I need your help, and Sam’s. It’s not an emergency, but I’d really appreciate it.

 **[NerdBird]**  
Oh. Sure then. Was worried he’d fallen of a building.

 **[NerdBird]**  
Again.

 **[SpiritFingers]**  
Again.

 **[NerdBird]**  
Jinx, Wanda. You owe me a soda. And no shaking it up this time.

 **[OneHandClapping]**  
Sam. Wanda. Business.  
If I send you a picture of a something, can you make it just from that? Clint was working from memory.

 **[NerdBird]**  
I can probably make it from a picture. This is one man who can draft a pattern.  
Unless it’s that tiny lace you insist on making. That gives me a headache.

 **[OneHandClapping]**  
Nope. Sport-weight stuff. It’s a special baby hat.

 **[SpiritFingers]**  
Show us?

_[OneHandClapping] [xnweh39.ppng attached]_

**[SpiritFingers]**  
I have a pattern for a similar hat!  
One moment. I will send it.  
_[khepuraye_04.pdf attached]_

 **[NerdBird]**  
Thanks, Wanda.

 **[OneHandClapping]**  
I owe you guys for this.

 **[SpiritFingers]**  
Your buhbi’s applesauce recipe!

 **[OneHandClapping]**  
Why not just ask for my first-born child while you’re at it?

 **[SpiritFingers]**  
…  
…  
Kolacky?

 **[NerdBird]**  
Agreed. Poppy seed kolacky.

 **[OneHandClapping]**  
…  
Deal.  
Just make as many of these as you can in two weeks?

 **[NerdBird]**  
Sure, man. I need something to do while I’m binging my shows.

 **[SpiritFingers]**  
Of course. This is simple enough that Viz may be able to start a few, even if I need to finish them.

 **[OneHandClapping]**  
Thank you!

**_[OneHandClapping has left the chat]_ **

**_[NerdBird has left the chat]_ **

**_[SpiritFingers has left the chat]_ **

**_[SmartestSon has joined the chat]_ **

**_[No-U! has joined the chat]_ **

☆•°•☆ _**TWO WEEKS LATER**_ ☆•°•☆

The last mission had required two snipers, lasted a week, and involved too much rigid vigilant wakefulness for even someone with Bucky’s constitution to manage without consequences. Still, sleeping in late, and waking up in a tangle of tanned limbs and sleepy mumbles wasn’t a bad way to start the morning. Well, the afternoon, anyway.

He could have stayed where he was – half-smothered beneath Clint, his boyfriend’s longer limbs letting the blond both hold him and snuggle in against his chest – but his bladder had other ideas. When he eventually did manage to wriggle free, it was only because Bucky tucked a pillow swiftly into Clint’s arms, offering something else for Barton to snuggle. With his business concluded, Bucky set about his usual morning routine: walk the dog, check the mail – they had packages this time – start the coffee.

He set the two boxes on the kitchen table and flicked on the coffee pot when Clint shuffled in to lean heavily on the counter next to him. He turned a muzzy smile at Bucky. “Mmrnin,’ babe.”

“Good morning, mumble bird.” He hugged Clint, pressing up into Barton’s chest, taking the other man’s weight as his boyfriend half-hugged half-flopped on him. Bucky wasn’t a little guy, but Clint was solid and big; it was easy to just let the other man envelope him like this.

Tilting his head up and, after Clint remembered that lips were for pressing to things other than the rim of a coffee cup, getting his good-morning-come-afternoon kiss, Bucky nodded back to the kitchen table. “Think you got some mail, babe.”

“Whu-?” Still barely coherent, Clint stumble-tripped his way over to the dining table, staggering back into one of the chairs. He shuffled through the few letters – all addressed to _resident_ or _J. Barnes_ , before finally noticing the boxes on the table.

Bucky hid a snicker behind his own coffee cup as Clint turned first one, then the other, over in his hands, blinking owlishly. One might almost think the man had never seen a parcel that _wasn’t_ a bomb, with the way his boyfriend kept confusedly glaring at the cardboard boxes.

Clint looked back over his shoulder, wary. “Bucky? Why is there a box from Sam?”

“Don’t Bird Bros share some kinda psychic link?” He shrugged, continuing to sip his coffee.

Clint shook his head, slowly smiling, as if his face was just remembering how not to be a sleeping one. “He cut it once he realized how many of my thoughts centred on you.”

Bucky grinned back at him. “Just me?”

“Also your ass.” Barton was almost fully awake now by that chuckle, grinning back at Bucky and the coffee he had uncontrollably snorted. Clint held up the second box. “What about the other one from... Wanda?”

“Again, more likely to mind meld with you than me, doll-face.” Bucky sat in the chair opposite his boyfriend. He smiled slightly, but otherwise did his best to keep his face neutral. No point in ruining the surprise.

“No way, J. B.” Clint was already tugging at the tape securing the box from Miss Maximoff. “Wanda; well, she knows better than to go tromping around inside my head, again.”

“After the first time, I'm honestly surprised you're still friends.” Bucky stuck out his tongue as Clint flipped him off.

Finally opting just to skip the tape and tear the box open, Clint lifted the final flap and froze. His mouth hung open for a moment, before his jaw popped; open, closed, open closed.

Bucky leaned back in his chair, smile wide and knowing. “So? What’s in it?”

Barton finally closed his mouth. He lifted his gaze, staring at Bucky for a moment before tearing into the package from Sam, expression still dazed once it was opened. Locking eyes with his lover, Clint upended both boxes onto their dining table, dropping a bevy of tiny knitted and crocheted caps onto the worn table top. “Did you do this?”

“I don't crochet, doll.” He shrugged, still wearing a very satisfied smirk.

“No, I mean… Did you do _this?”_ Clint waved the boxes still in his hands for emphasis, before catching sight of Bucky’s knowing smile. The boxes bounced off the worn hardwood as he dropped them to the floor, pointing an accusing finger at the man on the other side of the table. “You did this!”

Barnes set his now empty cup on the table, giving the barest of gallic shrugs. “I might have dropped a hint.”

“You..? Babe..!” Circling the table, Clint pulled him into a tight hug, crushing Bucky's cheek into his chest, his own face nuzzling into brown hair. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“All things considered, probably something very bad.” Bucky was going to ask if, maybe on accident, Barton had shot a nun or something, but, with Clint’s lips pressed to his – warm and insistent, and still tasting strongly of coffee – he thought better of it.

**Author's Note:**

> And, of course, I made StarkChat handles for people that didn’t even show up in this fic.
> 
> I will be using/have been using these in other stories, and – if you’ve read some of my other Marvel fics – you might have seen some of them, dear reader. But, just to get them all in one place, here are everyone’s StarkChat handles (at least for everyone that has one at this point).
> 
> Clint: HawkGuy  
> Sam: NerdBird  
> Wanda: SpiritFingers  
> Natasha: ArachNat  
> Bucky: OneHandClapping  
> Steve: Steven G (Originally Capsicle, but now he keeps it pun free just to throw off the joke and pun-based fun)  
> Matt: SeeNoEvil  
> Jessica: Dumpstress (Got the nickname from Clint, while he and Matt are occasionally Alley Dumpster Guy and Trash Baby)  
> Bruce: TheOtherOtherGuy  
> Peter: ItsyBitsy (Tony keeps changing it to that, so he just gave up.)  
> Tony: IronDad (Peter changed it once, trying to get back at him, and Tony got all wibbly while drinking his smoothie and now refuses to change it back.)  
> Luke: HotCoffee (Yeah, he did that. No, he’s not changing it. Also, no; Claire will not stop making fun of him over it.)
> 
> And, of course, the bots:  
> U: No-U!  
> DUM-E: SmartestSon  
> Butterfingers: HoldOn


End file.
